A single knot of tension in the veritable snakes nest in Natasha's belly eases when Hawkeye (or, Clint, rather) falls back into a more relaxed stance, his heartbeat slowing to match hers pretty perfectly, along with their steady, even breaths. It earns him one of those rare, and tiny, real smiles of hers, though this one is tinged with more relief than the ones he usually gets.

"Very good. Now, you can open your eyes again." When his eyes blink open, slow and sluggish, she gives his hand a light squeeze before moving it from her chest and lowering it to his side. "You can do the same with the other arm." Her hand falls away from his face and she holds up a finger for him to follow with his gaze. "Let's get you checked out." Not so much for the checklist she has to fill in, as for her own personal need to know.